


Protection

by Rinna



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft is really not good with people, Mycroft's Meddling, POV Mycroft Holmes, Poor Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, hints at Sherlock/John, this is a mycroft fic if you haven't guessed it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinna/pseuds/Rinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft decides to keep an eye on his brother by way of makings ure everyone around him exactly knows what they are dealing with - after all it's never a threat unless you choose to interpret it as one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection

Mycroft always knew releasing his little brother into the world, letting him roam about in between all those who were normal, much too different from him, would inevitably lead to trouble.  
Whether Sherlock wants to admit it or not, him and Mycroft have a lot in common with each other, and thus Mycroft always had an inkling that it would simply never do to lock Sherlock away in some chemical research lab, forever closed off from his true aspirations.  
They even share the thirst for adventure, coming from what was and still is, a painfully normal household, but they live it in different ways.

Mycroft likes to exert control, to use his skills and intellect in the most efficient way. He likes to stay in the shadows. He chose them.  
Sherlock on the other hand thrives for attention, maybe because he was always denied it by his brother.  
Growing up together, there was just nothing impressive about him, nothing Mycroft could not have done himself, and much faster at that.  
Had Mycroft treated him differently, they would maybe work together now, but like so many other realisations, this one comes too late, and all the love in the world would not be enough to change Sherlock's opinion about his brother now.

Mycroft regrets. Oh, he regrets.  
So the only thing there is to do, the only thing he can do without suffering constant disdain and ridicule, is to watch out for Sherlock.

After finishing university, Sherlock travels extensively.  
By then Mycroft already has a well established network of eyes to track him, and for many months he is not sure whether his brother ever plans on returning his his family, or settling anywhere remotely near them.

It comes as a real surprise then, when Sherlock appears smack dab in the middle of London, registered with to a permanent address, even with a TV license number.

Mycroft doesn't waste a thought on how his brother might pay for it, his intellect alone allows for ways to make money other people cannot even dream of, and as such he refuses the money his parents try to send him.  
What arouses his curiosity is who would possibly allow Sherlock into their house, seeing as he has a casual disregard for concepts such as property and how to maintain it, how to appear like an upstanding person to appeal to a prospective landlord, and, most importantly, no regular occupation Mycroft knows about - and he would know.

He acquires the name of the person who owns the property - 221b Baker Street, NW1 6XE - , and after looking at the photograph of a certain Mrs Hudson, an elderly lady who seems to be rather fond of florals, Mycroft thinks it entirely possible that Sherlock tricked his way into her home.  
So he invites her for tea.  
Just to get an impression of who Sherlock is dealing with. Just to make sure.

Convincing her to meet with him is simple, but it also requires him to make an effort himself.  
He simply waits for a day when Sherlock is out of the house, since his brother wouldn't tolerate his interference, and his mere presence is an interference in Sherlock's book, before he simply knocks on the door and once face to face with the woman, introduces himself as Sherlock's brother.

It isn't even a lie, and yet it feels like one.

"That's charming," Mrs Hudson tells him, quite predictably how he finds, "I wonder why Sherlock never mentioned he had a brother."

"We're... not as close as we used to be."

Alas, that at least, is a lie.

"If you've come to visit them, then I'm sorry to tell you he isn't in," Mrs Hudson says, already absent-mindedly patting Mycroft's shoulder as a reaction to the sad face he is putting on for her.

"I would like to wait with you, if it's no trouble," he says, and one winning smile later, he finds himself at the small table in her kitchen, and while the cup it is served in is near unbearably tasteless, the tea is great.

"I just wanted to congratulate Sherlock on his new living arrangements," Mycroft says conversationally, shaking his head at the offered biscuits.  
"I understand he moved in only recently?"

"Yes, well," Mrs Hudson says, before leaning over conspiratorially, "I used to live up there myself, but I don't require quite as much space ever since..."

Mycroft raises an eyebrow, willing her to elaborate.

"I met Sherlock in Florida, you see. I used to live there with my husband. It hadn't been a happy marriage for a long time, not like in the beginning, and I was sure that I would miss all the things he was so good with... You know, in the sack,"

Mycroft tries his best not to choke on a sip of tea and fails miserably.

"...but in the end I thought it healthier not to stay married to a man who associated with drug lords, pirates and what have you. Your brother said he could help, and that he would get me back home, and the least I could do was offer him a place to stay."

Once his composure is restored, the older Holmes blinks at her, careful to avoid glancing at the biscuits too often.

"How exactly... did Sherlock help you?"

"I never found out the details. He said it would be safer that way, but... he was very good at digging up the evidence needed in court!"

Slowly Mycroft realises that for all he thought Sherlock would get himself into trouble simply by being who he is, there is no damage control for him to do here.  
Whoever this woman is, and oh he will look into her files as soon as he gets back, she seems to be benefiting from Sherlock's presence in some odd way.

Oh well, why not.

The second time Mycroft deems it necessary to act on his brother's behalf is when he hears about a fire at an Italian restaurant. Being on Bryanston Street, the restaurant is entirely too close to Sherlock's house for Mycroft to feel comfortable with declaring it a mere accident, especially when he sees the insurance lawyer's signature on the claim that subsequently turns up.

Antonio's restaurant has always been involved with the mafia, one of the many cases Mycroft won't have anything to do with, some problems are best left alone.  
He is curious however, why Sherlock would embezzle money for a person like that.

"He likes my pasta," says Antonio, and looks around nervously in Mycroft's office with its high ceilings and the J. M. W. Turner paintings Mycroft has a particular fondness for.  
He's not touched his tea yet, and Mycroft tries hard not to grin at that. It is astounding how much an official invitation and a sharp looking suit can intimidate a man.

"Do go on," he says lowly, making the poor man flinch.

"Well, that's what he said. He's been one of my regulars for a while now, but he always comes by himself, never brings any colleagues or dates, but he would help me with all the... avvertimento, l'imposizione fiscale, what do you call them?"

Mycroft fights down a scowl. He doesn't think this man capable of lying, but why on earth would Sherlock do someone's taxes?

"Now that we've had the fire, I told him he can't come over for a while, but that I was willing to help him in whatever way I could. I don't look it, but I know a lot of people."

"I don't doubt it," Mycroft gives back, and his smile comes out a little pinched at the edges.

A couple of days later, he receives a text.

_Stop bothering everyone. - SH_

I am taking an interest in your life, dear brother. - MH

No reply. Mycroft thinks it possible that Sherlock has started doing other people favours so he can later borrow money from them, but if that is the case, he has made very unlikely choices in both Mrs Hudson and the restaurant owner.  
Therefore it is not to rile him up (which he does sometimes, he can admit it to himself at least) when he sends Sherlock another text saying:

_How do you get by these days? - MH_

Mind your own business. - SH

Hardly a surprising answer.

Mycroft however, is a patient man, and he knows that Sherlock does everything he does for a purpose, and that purpose is usually not the well-being of others.

A month goes by without incident, but the incident that does occur then requires Mycroft's intervention without doubt - not that Sherlock would ever admit that.

His little brother lands himself in prison.  
With an eight-month sentence no less.

As a government official, Mycroft is allowed to have a little chat with the police man who made the arrest, and is determined to free Sherlock with a few good arguments and a minimal amount of threatening am member of Her Majesty's executive force.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir?" the tall, grey-haired man in his door says, and Mycroft is pleased to note that DI Greg Lestrade, 48, from Ickenham, seems to have manners.

"Indeed. Please come in. Tea?"

A nod.

Lestrade is a touch uneasy, Mycroft can tell, but not overly so. One of the ideologists then.

"I would like to cut straight to the issue I asked you to come here for," Mycroft tells him,  
"I understand Sherlock Holmes has been imprisoned for--"

"The obstruction of justice, yes, both for interfering with witnesses and concealing evidence."

Lestrade takes the offered cup from the other man as if he's not just rudely interrupted him.

"He entered a crime scene without permission and caused quite a lot of disorder."

Mycroft motions for Lestrade to sit.

"...and yet you are holding something back," he says, and while the tea sloshing onto Lestrade's saucer tells him everything he needs to know, the detective looks at him with an unreadable expression, something he might have gotten away with if it weren't Mycroft Holmes sitting across from him.

"Let's not waste each other's time," Mycroft finally says and clears his throat before continuing:  
"You were annoyed at him for butting in, but had no real idea what you were doing, he shouted at you because that's what he's good at, and believe me, I know... You felt the need to establish yourself as the alpha male so you locked him up, but then you went back and found that my brother actually managed to solve your case."

There you go. The man looks positively mortified.

"Don't worry," Mycroft tells him and aims for a reassuring smile. After all that is what you are supposed to look like if you want people to trust you, isn't it?

"I'm sure you have been worrying about rectifying your mistake without losing integrity."

Here Lestrade seems to finally find his voice for long enough to interrupt Mycroft mid-breath, just to ask him how he could possibly know all this. How dull. How impossibly, predictably dull.

All he gets is a raised eyebrow for his trouble.

"I'm sure you have your moments, Detective Inspector, but solving a murder of this calibre is usually not among them," he remarks icily.

Let it be known that Mycroft Holmes is not happy about how things are progressing. Sherlock is an aggravating presence currently in a place where aggravating others is more than just a bad idea, and his brother wants him out of there sooner rather than later.

"Fine, why are you helping me, then," Lestrade presses on, but Mycroft waves him off.

"I have no intention of helping you. I wouldn't want to be the next person who finds himself in prison for doing that."

Suddenly Lestrade smiles at him.

"You must truly love your brother," he says, "To both abuse your power and threaten other people like that."

Mycroft gapes at the other man for the tiniest of moments. He always thought of himself as someone who was on his guard, and he is certainly not used to getting talked back to, but for some reason the detective managed to make him lose his composure and show his hand.  
He isn't sure whether to admire or despise him for it.

After collecting himself, he says:  
"You should let Sherlock help you. I can make sure that credit is distributed equally, maybe he can be a sort of unofficial advisor."

Lestrade scowls at him.

"I can solve my own cases."

"I am not giving you an option here," Mycroft growls impatiently, "My brother will be back to interfere either way, because you have let him do it once already. It is really best to not... look a gift horse in the mouth as they say, and let him do whatever it is he does."

Another wide grin.

"That's cute," Lestrade says, "You want someone to keep an eye on him."

Some days Mycroft remembers why it is a bad idea to talk to other people.

 

John Watson.  
John Watson is different.

John Watson is not impressed with Mycroft, as he isn't impressed with anything besides Sherlock Holmes.  
John Watson doesn't drink tea with government agents, and he doesn't take kindly to being kidnapped, either.  
John Watson doesn't fold under Mycroft's gaze, and he stands steady and straight as if he is still a soldier ready to go to war.

Other people Mycroft has talked to always think of him as the reasonable one of the brothers, the one taking care of this other person who is maybe a bit unhinged, they listen to him and tell him what Mycroft needs to know.  
John does no such thing. He doesn't operate in the patterns other people use, and slowly but steadily, Mycroft sees an emotion build up within Sherlock he did not believe would ever come to find a place within his brother's heart and mind.

Mycroft doesn't know how to protect him against this, where information and hands and money are useless, when the real world in all its predictability fails him.

He just hopes he won't have to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This was originally posted on tumblr, where I asked for prompts. You can, too! Just visit me at thorinjin.tumblr.com


End file.
